


The Punk and the God-Father

by ithinkabouttrees



Series: Camp Half-Blood: Generation Next [1]
Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Coming of Age, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkabouttrees/pseuds/ithinkabouttrees
Summary: 7 years have passed since the trials of Apollo. The doors to Olympus remain mostly closed, monster sightings have dwindled, and the 7 and friends have since retired and moved on with their lives. All seems peaceful for both Half-Blood and Jupiter with both camps eager to see the next great heroes take shape. But, behind the closed doors lies secrets. A secret cold war has taken shape under the camps' noses, and the doors holding back the flood are about to break open.Meanwhile, an out of place girl named August shows up for her first year at Camp Half-Blood. Though under prepared and filled with self doubt, August is determined to make a name for herself despite what others may think of her impulsive and brash personality.The new dawn for Half-Blood is breaking. Will August rise with the sun or fly too close and burn?





	1. Stressed Out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Punk and the God Father: An Olympic Hero Tale](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432476) by ithinkabouttrees. 



Chapter 1: Stressed Out

_August_

            In the days leading up to my time at camp, you wouldn’t be able to tell me apart from any number of conventional California teens. I am blonde with beach waves from my time spent running on the trail near Santa Monica Beach, while freckles form on my cheeks, and tan lines begin suggest the outline of my running shorts and tank top. I keep fit and keep up my specific brand of 70’s and 80’s mix punk aesthetics, and I go to Starbucks with my friends to take selfies. I shop at Sefora. I skate, I surf, I play guitar, I make vines, I have over 5,000 followers on Instagram. It is the way many girls my age are here. It’s just how it is.

            Well, _did_ do all those things. I can’t bring myself to think about how to go about enjoying them now. Everything from then seems so far away now. So empty. Under the hallow shell of who I once was emerged the real me.

 

            I remember the day everything changed because it was raining for a short time that afternoon; a rare occurrence here in SolCal. The last bell for the school year had rang in late May and the entire 8th grade class gathered on the soccer field to rejoice and have a tearful goodbye. Everyone except for me and my two friends, Margret and Connie.

            “Not going in to the battlefield to get your yearbook signed, August?” Connie asked as we stayed indoors clearing out our lockers. I looked down either side of the brick hallway lined with standard issue blue lockers and felt an odd sense of unease; the school never looked so empty before.

            “Nah.” I grunted, not so secretly happy to be done with all of middle school and to never have to look back. "Don't want to get my jeans dirty for people I don't even like that much."

            “I don’t blame you. Middle school should be illegal.” Margret agreed in a flat tone as she emptied the contents of her backpack into the large rolling trashcan. “If I ever hear anyone call me Merida one more time, I’ll lose it.” She rolled her eyes and shoved the mane of red hair out of her face as continued tossing old tests and papers into the bin.

            “Now it’s off to Korea with the grandparents for the summer.” Connie sing-songed as she hastily threw a molding sandwich out. 

            I could feel my stomach unknot as I cleaned up my stuff. Between the dyslexia, ADHD, and social anxiety, middle school had been one like anxiety attack.

            "I'll be glad to never have to talk to anyone from here that I don't want to again." I remarked as I thumbed through the yearbook that I didn't really want. The theme was hideous too; they made the entire thing seem like an instagram post.

            “That’s funny considering you’re like, the most popular girl here.” Connie said in an almost bitter tone. I could tell she always envied me, but could never bring myself to talk to her about it.  I didn’t think follower counts and retweets mattered, but now I’m not sure why I thought they didn’t.

            “Popular? I hang out with only you two and Ed.” I reminded her as I flung an armful of old homework and crumbled workbooks into the trash. The smell of paper and pencil shavings almost seemed nostalgic.

            “Speaking of which…” Margret pointed finger guns at Connie and I, and we instantly knew what it meant.

            “You wanna go to Ed’s house?” I asked with a cheeky half smile as the two nodded in agreement.

            We donned our backpacks and slipped out the back as to avoid the onslaught of other teens, not looking back as we each headed toward and uncertain future.

 

              The walk continued mostly in silence as I marched slightly ahead of Margret and Connie with my hands behind my head. The heat was nice, and the rain made the sidewalk steam as we continued, making the suburb seem like a jungle for a moment in time. I starred up at the grey nether-weather sky and thought about how frivolous the past 3 years felt. I had done everything I could to pretend like I was normal and for what?

            “Hey august! Wake up! You’re walking right passed it!” Connie yelled as she grabbed my backpack, bringing me to a halt. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t even realize I was walking passed the one greenhouse in the middle of a suburban neighborhood.

My neighborhood was a home owner’s association, meaning every house looked just about the same, and was in walking distance to the school. Ed’s greenhouse was only 3 doors down from mine, making it a favorite hangout for the three of us.

           Ed had shown up out of nowhere on my doorstep a year ago. He was a scrawny, tan 18 year old with a dark brown beard and a jumble of tight, curly hair tucked into a grey beanie. He claimed to have traveled to California in a van and that his parents were farmers in the Midwest who told him to make his own wealth once he turned 18. He asked me if he could borrow a rake. I lead him around back to our garden shed, much to my mother’s horror that I was talking to a complete stranger, and he returned it in an hour asking for a shovel. This continued back and forth. Within a week I saw the vacant lot that was supposed to become another home owner’s association house turned into a greenhouse with a fully stocked vegetable garden out front with a big sign that said “Community Garden” out-front. He invited my mother and I to check it out, and lo and behold he had converted the back half of the green house into a small studio that he lived out of.

           The lot was beautiful and full of different fruits, vegetables, and flowers, and Ed was a very nice, soft spoken guy who seemed to always be open to listening to my problems. My mom didn’t worry about him being a creep after about a month, and I quickly found myself spending many afternoons there while my mom worked long hours in the record studio, producing hit albums. It sounds like a dream job, but not when you realize celebrities are all huge babies. They need to be catered to at all times or they throw a fit. From the time I was old enough to work the stove, I was pretty much responsible for myself.

          I walked through the garden path and approached the door. Before I even made it halfway, beyond the lavender and just passed the pomegranate tree, Ed popped out of the greenhouse.

         “Hello everyone!” He cheered as he had his way towards us in a floppy women’s sun hat and an apron. I giggled a bit. Ed was always kind of a weirdo.

          “Afternoon Ed.” Margret mumbled through a mouthful of red plum that she had picked from one of the many trees somehow heavy with fruit this early into the season.

          “Hey Eddy.” I greeted him.

          “Auggy doggy and the brat pack, good to see you girls! Come on in!” He gestured as he opened the door for us. The green house was filled with peppers, lettuces, peas, and carrots of all shapes and colors. My favorites were the rainbow carrots that grew in a glass case so you could see when they were done.

          “Last day of school Ed boy.” Connie remarked as she bit off a piece of hot pepper and chewed, her ears going red.

          “Ha, so now you’re free from hell for a while yeah?” He quipped as we made our way into the studio in the back.

          “Looks like it.” I agree, making my way to his fridge for a soda.

          “Oh shit guys I totally forget that we gotta go. We gotta get ready for the party.” Margret reminded us, much to my dismay. I was hoping we would forget it this year.

          “Oh yeah I forgot about that. August, are you coming?” Connie asked as she also prepared to leave.

          “I uh… I dunno.” I answered nervously. “Doesn’t this usually take place the day after the last day?”

          “They moved it to be accommodating to people’s summer vacations. Now come on, no excuses, you’re going.” Connie demanded, clapping her hands like a queen summoning her court to session.

          “Oh come on, it’s the last one of middle school!.” Margret pleaded.

          “And if you hate it you can leave and we won’t try and stop you.” Connie goaded.

          “What if I go?” Ed asked.

          “Ed why do you wanna make me go?” I looked at him like he had gone crazy.

          “Oh no you got me all wrong. I wanna go schmooze with divorcees.” Ed finger gunned.

          “Ew gross, fine I’ll go as long as you don’t.” I caved.

          “Nice! Wait aww.” Ed pouted.

          “Come on nature lad, it’s time for you to shower.” I elbowed him as we made our way out.

          He scoffed, “Hey man I made the choice not shower every day. Better for the environment!”

 

          Getting ready for a party was nerve wracking. I would have much rather stayed at Ed's and watched _FRIENDS_ reruns. Up in my loft bedroom, I searched through my closet trying to find a suitable outfit for the end of the year party. It was being hosted at Matthew McCourt’s house. He was captain of the drama club and one of the richest and most popular boys in school. His house was a marbled mansion in the hills, and his parents always threw the biggest parties where they would supply all the food, drinks, games and entertainment, then lock themselves in the basement wine cellar with the rest of the parents and drank until they could hardly stand.

          This party was always the height of my social anxiety. It had been a full year since I had been in a crowd of my student peers, a deliberate choice on my part. I studied my face to decide what to do. It was a pool party, so the eyeliner was out of the question unless I wanted to look like a fashion week model in a hurricane. My letterman jacket and the leather jacket were also out. Too hot, and again, pool party. Time to look at bathing suits. A one piece says I’m a prude, a two piece says I’m a slut, a bikini top with board shorts says I’m gay. There’s no winning. Why would they throw a pool party for teens? Do I keep the eyebrow piercing and lip ring in or take them out? What if they came out in the water? Thank God I wasn’t on my period.

          I was abruptly shocked back to reality by a knock on my door.

          “August, are you almost ready?” Mom asked through the door.

         “Not in the slightest. Do I have to go?” I pleaded, already beginning to sweat. It was hard enough being among everyone at school, but everyone always expected my next best selfie Olympics stunt at these things. The tradition since I even began free climbing had been for me to find the next most daring thing to climb to the top of and hang the ceremonial “Class of 2022” flag off of it. Last year it was the hospital, and that did not end well.  

         “No, you don’t have to go, and I would sure love for you to stay in tonight.” My mom assured me as she entered the room and handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down and took a breath.

         “It is raining.” I commented, looking outside. I did not thrive in the lack of sun, and I also did not want to go swimming in the rain, no matter how romanticized it was.

        Mom came up behind me and hugged me, “Well if you decide to go, I’ll be down in the studio.” She always smelled like almond oil and rose water. I looked at us in the mirror and saw the resemblance, but always wondered how someone with hazel eyes managed to give birth to someone with eyes as blue as mine. Any time I asked about dad she always told me that he could have been a number of people and that 2004 was a more “open time” for her which usually ended that conversation. She kissed me on the head and headed back downstairs, leaving me to stare in the mirror and make up my mind.

           “One more night. It’s not worth the billions of dms asking why I didn’t go.” I grumbled to myself as I picked up a bikini top and matching boardshorts. “Just one more night.”

 

            "Thanks Joyce!” Connie yelled as we made our way out of the car. The sky had cleared up leaving another beautiful California sunset to be seen. The McCourt house was bumping with Drake as we pulled in.

            “You’re welcome! And if you need me, I’m a phone call away!” She reminded us.

            “I love you mom. I’ll call you when we’re done.” I said as I kissed her on the cheek and exited the car as I made my way up the front porch stairs.

            The McCourt’s were were insanely rich lawyers who worked for big pharma, and it showed. The house was a 3-floors not including the basement estate designed with huge windows, marble counter tops, and stainless-steel appliances, and the very top floor was a game room filled with new and old arcade games and a theater room while the basement was a wine cellar. The pool was almost an Olympic size pool with an automatic retractable awning.

             As we walked in, it was packed with almost every kid from the 8th grade graduating class.

            “August! Good to see you! Are you ready for another flag waving?” A voice called out to me. Matthew was a short, mousy kid with a mop of messy brown hair. He greeted me wearing a white blazer over a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts with flamingos on them. I could tell he had already slammed enough soda to keep him up all night.

            “Maybe not this year, Matt, I don’t wanna break my leg again.” I reminded him, taking the bottle of Mexican Coke from him that he offered me.

            “Hey it healed like, freakishly fast though. I’m just glad you’re ok.” He remarked, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good talk, we’ll catch up later. Sarah! You’re not getting way that easily!” He boisterously called out as he wandered off to greet another set of guests.

            “Man, this is always such a bougie experience.” Margret said unenthusiastically as she snapped into a pretzel rod while hovering over the snack table. Her tall, gangly figure did not give away her passion for snack foods.

            “Hey you’re the one who made me come to this! Don’t punk out on me so quickly.” I complained. I shouldered off my hoodie and threw it into the coat room as I made my way toward the empty pool. That was always the best part of these parties is that no one ages 12-15 wants to be half naked in front of each other, meaning I could swim laps in relative peace. I took the plunge and began my freestyle laps. Over and back. Repeat. Over and back. Repeat. The constant movement and repetition felt good, until I felt someone drop into the water with me. I came up for air and was met with a face of someone I was not familiar with.

            “Hello!” She said cheerfully. An olive skin face with a round shape and golden eyes stared back as I tried to think where I may have seen her before.

            “Hi.” I replied, a little peeved my cycle had been broken.

            She gave an unsure half smile, and moved her straight dark hair behind her ear. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

            “Nah, it’s a pool party after all.” I remarked, getting over myself quickly.

            “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” She laughed sarcastically. I eased up a bit, but was still unsure of what exactly was happening.

            “You’re not from around here.” I commented, realizing too late how stilted that sounded.

            “You’re right, I’m new. My parents said it would be good for me to go to this party because just about everyone here is going to the high school I’ll be attending.” She extended a hand for me to shake, “I’m Christa.”

            “August.” I replied as I took it and shook. Her hands were cold despite the temperature out.

            “So what’s this I hear about flag waving?” She asked, staring me up and down. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. I was not one to be challenged.

            “Oh it’s this stupid tradition where I climb up some absurdly tall structure and place the Class of 2022 flag on it.” I said with a nonchalant shrug.

            She turned to look up at the top floor balcony, “Where’s it going to be this year?”

            “It’s not going to be a thing this year.” I responded flatly. I would be damned if she was going to goad me into a trick like that.

            Her eyes formed slits as her mouth turned up at the corners, “Why not?”

            “Because last year I was going to put it on top of the hospital and I slipped, fell, and broke my leg in three places and also split my head open.” I explained, looking away at the view of the city. Christ the McCourts were loaded.

            “Huh.” Christa’s voice came out dry and bitter. “So you’re scared then?”

            I turned to her, not sure as to why this total stranger was trying to pick on me. Did she follow me on insta or something?

            “Yeah actually. I would prefer to not die someway completely stupid.” I motioned to get out of the pool, but a hand on my arm stopped me.

            “Wait, don’t go. I think I may have gotten off on the wrong foot here.” She pleaded, those golden eyes seeming very innocent compared to just a second ago.

            “If you’re going to make me climb something stupid so I can put your name on my post for insta clout, it’s not happening.” I half growled, yanking my arm out of her grasp.

            “Well no, I wasn’t but ok suit yourself.” She shrugged and dipped underwater, leaving me be.

            “Bitch.” I spat under my breath. Even random people were starting to bother me.

            I grabbed a towel from the towel bin and began to dry off, heading inside to avoid another antagonistic conversation. The second I got away from her I felt bad about being rude, but I put it out of my head.

            “Hey August,” I turned to see Matthew offering me a slice of pizza, “Hey don’t feel like you gotta do the whole flag thing this year. After last year, I’m pretty so most of us don’t wanna repeat it. I’m sorry if I came off weird.”

            “Thanks Matty, you’re good.” I felt a little better being reassured by mister party himself. I scarfed down a couple slices of pizza and mingled for a bit before the sun began to set and I became very tired. That always seemed to happen right around sunset; my energy zapped and all I wanted to do was curl up and watch tv.

            I meandered through the crowd until I found Matthew again and tapped him on the shoulder.

            “Hey I hate to be an ass, but do you mind if I take a breather on your upper balcony for a bit?” I asked, hoping some alone time would help me rally.

            “No problem friendo! Me casa es tu casa.” He said with a wink as he went back to flirting with the 4 girls he had surrounding him.

            I made my way up the steps and found the Class of 2022 flag hanging off the railing at the top of the wooden staircase. Without a second thought I picked it up and carried it with me, examining it as I made my way up the flight of full pine steps. It was the same flag I had been posting around since 4th grade. The first time I ever climbed with it was to the top of the elementary school using the defunct fire escape in the back. The flag wasn’t the most original design. Iron on black bold lettering spelled out CLASS OF 2022 on a white flag with a big gold star in the background.

            Then it caught my eye. The stain on the upper left corner. I was perplexed by it at first because Matthew had done a great job taking care of it, but that stain almost made me drop the flag and leave the party all together. It was blood. It was my blood. Flashbacks of a year ago almost to the day ran through my head.

 

           I was climbing the hospital with the help of classmate Kimberly Devorte. Her older brother worked at the hospital and had given us the numbers and locations of the rooms that weren’t in use. I had less than 10 hours to memorize which windows were safe and which weren’t and avoid the ones that could potentially be opened, sending me to my downfall.

            I had trained all year for it. The climb was daring for a professional free climber, let alone a 13-year-old. I had gone to the bouldering wall at my gym every day. I boxed with my personal trainer 4 days a week to work on fast footing and reflexes. I climbed my house, my friend’s houses, abandoned buildings, even a different, smaller hospital that gave me permission as long as the fire department could be on site. I thought I had it.

            The day of the climb went off without a hitch. The hospital hadn’t caught on to my task until I was halfway up. The ledges between the windows were narrow and small, but I was making my way up with great speed as my hands found holds, feet found grounding, and my head was looking straight up and not down. I just had to and remember which windows were looking in on empty rooms and which weren’t.

            By the time the police and the fire department arrived, I was on level 16. 16 floors in the air by the time the window I was pulling myself over decided to open, disrupting my footing and slipping my grip. All I remember about the fall were two golden eyes staring at me from the dark window as I plummeted. I blacked out in midair by the grace of some form of God, but I saw the pictures of myself when I hit the ground. I wish I hadn’t. I still have nightmares about it.

            A broken cranium and triple fractured right leg were fixed with 16 staples going across my head and 4 metal rods in my leg. It took 6 months of PT to walk again, and by some miracle I was able to get full range of motion back. But the anxiety that followed from the months of recovery and pain, the sleepless nights, and the tole it took to recover from both my mother and I wore down on me. From it formed an anxiety disorder and night terrors. Self doubt soon followed.

            The flag made me sick to look at. I kept thinking about how my mother must have reacted when she saw me fall and hit the ground. From that point forward, everyone I knew was super nice to me, but for the wrong reasons. My entire masquerade of attempting to be popular and cool had been undermined by the fall, and now everyone looked at me like a charity case. I wasn’t the cool bad ass that climbed buildings and played loud guitars; I was the girl who fell off a building and almost died trying to put a stupid flag up.

            “You could just hang it off the balcony you know.” The voice made me whip my head around so fast my neck hurt. It was that new girl. Christa or whatever.

            “Oh I mean… yeah I guess.” I said after a minute, still fixated on the blood stain. Something subconsciously clicked in my brain when I looked back at her. The eyes.

            “Well it’s better than nothing. Here, I’ll help you put it up.” She gestured towards the balcony with a roll of duct tape in hand. Why did she follow me? Why does she have the same eyes as the person who opened the window? Something shifted inside of me.

            I dropped the flag and took a boxing position. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

            “What’s the animosity, Augustine?” Christa’s eyes flashed an unnatural gold color, and without a second warning I had whipped around and gave a devastating boxing kick to her ribs. A kick that normally would have laid someone out, but she barely flinched. I have no idea what prompted me to do such a thing.

            “That’s nice, real cute.” She spat, her skin undulating and changing as she moved. A new shape began to take form before me, and I fought the rising bile in my throat threatening to come up in horror.

            A pair of leathery wings ripped from her back as her mouth contorted into a huge mass of fangs and jagged predator teeth. I turned to run and was thrown up against a wall before I could even make a move.

            “Like shooting fish in a barrel.” It said, but the tone was all wrong. It was like those videos of a cat saying I love you or a dog saying mama. The cadence and vocal structure was wrong. It was all wrong. I couldn’t fathom what I was witnessing, but before the creature or myself could make a move, I heard a familiar voice break through my haze of trauma inducing fear.

            “Not again!” Matty had appeared in the hallway holding his house keys in his hand, and before I could call out to him, his keys suddenly turned into a short cutlass. It blew my mind, but I couldn’t even begin to form a cohesive thought before the creature threw me into the spare bedroom with enough force to put a dent in the wall that I hit.

            My head spun and my shoulder screamed in agony, my vision going from white hot pain to blurry scenes of Matty taking swings at whatever demon had just sprung to life from the body of a teen girl.

            “You fucks have gotten so brazen lately!” Matty called out as the creature gave a violent shout halfway between someone running a piano wire over sandpaper and a monster truck revving it’s engine. The noise from the party downstairs clouded the sound from the guests, but I prayed someone would hear it and come help us. Before I could move to run, Matty gave a powerful upper blow to the creature’s head, and the demon exploded into a shower of fine gold dust, covering Matty in a layer.

            “You still haven’t been claimed yet?!” He barked at me, wiping a layer of dust out of his eyes.

            “What?!” I half whined half groaned, still in delirious pain from the impact. I felt my senses come to and tried to stand.

            “No no, don’t get up without help.” I felt his shoulder underneath my arm as he helped me onto the guest bed and made sure I was stable.

            “What the fuck man?” The tears fell from my eyes like rain as the panic attack finally kicked in.

            “August, I know this is crazy but you need to take a deep breath and drink this.” He handed me a vial of what looked like red wine. For whatever reason, I trusted him enough to choke it down.

            It was amazing. It tasted like how being hugged by your mother feels combined with the marzipan my grandmother used to make before she passed. I felt instantly better and like I could run a thousand miles and not be winded.

            “Look, I can’t even begin to explain to you what just happened in the span of however long it’s going to take for anyone downstairs to realize I’ve dipped.” Matty brushed the hair out of my face and took out his phone.

            “Well you better fucking try.” I snapped, not happy with any of what had just happened.

            “Well I can’t ok? It’s much more complicated than you think, but I kinda always had a feeling we weren’t so different.” He typed out something on his phone and sent it away with a ping. “I sent you a time and place for us to meet up for lunch tomorrow. I’ll call you an uber to home if you want, but I need you to trust me that I am on your side.”

            “I… I do.” I nodded, my mouth going dry again as the gravity of the situation was starting to hit.

            “Good, good.” He sighed and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in. “I’m really sorry. It’s hard when there’s more than one of us in the same area.” He apologized, but I wasn’t sure why.

            Matty had an uber at the house and my hoodie filled with my stuff to me within 5 minutes. He apologized again on the way out, but I assured him he was so much more of a help than he could imagine. The party hadn't flinched as I walked out the door, the rest of the class totally unaware that a literal monster had just burst from a teenager and tried to kill me. 

            Once home, my mom was surprised to see me and even more shocked to see the massive bruise down my shoulder. I did my best to explain what happened, but she wasn’t comprehending it well. Eventually she told me that she needed time to think and sent me off to bed, where I almost immediately fell into a dark, restless sleep.


	2. I'm a Believer

I woke up, took a shower, and got dressed going through the motions. Sleep brought me no relief from anxiety or my physical pain, though I did notice the bruising had considerably lightened up. Last night’s event played through my head like a broken DVD stuck on a scene. Thankfully I had taken the easy way out with most of my clothes; black shirts of varying styles, jeans of varying cuts, an assortment of vintage band t-shirts, and a pair of chucks for every conceivable occasion. Getting dressed was a no-brainer.

I walked downstairs to find my mom sitting at the round kitchen table in her bathrobe with my tea already made in my favorite mug that had a rainbow on it.

“Sit.” She gestured to wicker backed dining room chair next to her. She had a worried expression that made me feel uneasy.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly as studied the worry lines in her brow. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before speaking.

 “I’ve been dishonest about you… well… many things.” She finally sighed followed by an uneasy throat clearing. Her laugh lines and grays were very noticeable to me that day. I wondered how many of those were caused by me.

“Ok.” I nodded, chewing my lip.

“I know exactly who your father is.”

The words hit me like a brick to the face, and a choked a bit on my green tea, sending it down the front of my shirt. All these years asking for an answer only to be told there wasn’t one, and suddenly there was. The funny part was that I didn’t feel mad, mostly just sick to my stomach.

“Well… who is he?” I asked as I dabbed at my black V neck with a paper towel.

“He’s… he’s Greek. He’s from a long historic family from Greece. He… his name is Apollo.” She began, studying my face to see if I had a reaction. I sat quietly waiting for the shock to kick in, but the numbness inside was deafening.

“So I’m half Greek then? Well… that would explain the nose…” I said mostly to myself as I ran my finger down the small but prominent bump along the ridge.

My mom gave a forced chuckle.

“It’s more than that.” She sighed again and took a sip of her coffee, looking contemplative for a moment as she stared into the wood grain of the table. “I met him through work. He was mentoring John Mayer at the time and I was helping my then boss try and secure his record production deal through our company. Your father and I hit it off and began dating for about six months when I accidentally became pregnant.”

“Ok…”

“Everything was going fine until…” she trailed off.

“Until what?” I prodded.

 “Well, he was very happy at first. But… a couple days later he seemed uncomfortable with it. He tried to explain that his family was very powerful and very wealthy… that they would try and find you. He didn’t want that.” She paused and closed her eyes, sparkling tears forming in the corners which made me sad. It’s never easy watching your parent cry.

“So… what happened?” I began to worry. Here came the shocking part.

“Well I became worried too because I was young and didn’t have a plan… and we tried to… we tried to have an abortion.” She finally admitted. I almost threw up, but I swallowed hard and tried to make a joke to ease the tension.

“It clearly didn’t take.”

“No.” My mom gave a weak smile. “No it didn’t. Both times.”

My jaw almost hit the table. “Both times!?”

She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes before continuing in a strained voice, “I was early enough the first time that they tried to induce one with meds, but when that didn’t take, I tried to use a surgical method. Well, needless to say, that didn’t work either. So instead of trying again I decided that the world was telling me I needed to be a mom. And honestly, I never wanted to get rid of you, I was just 25 and had no idea why he was upset. I just knew he was terrified and so was I.”

“Did he leave after that?” I asked, feeling the pit in my stomach grow wider.

“Yes… a few weeks after the second attempt he left in the night with a note that said he was sorrier than he could ever express, and that for the safety of you and I, he needed to leave. He wrote that the best thing for both of us was to stay in California and forget he existed… he said he had seen our future with him in it and it meant bad things if he stayed. I never understood it, but he was literally gone without a trace. No forwarding address, no phone number, no mention where he was going from work or mutual contacts. It’s like he never existed.”

I leaned back in my chair and looked up at the ceiling. Between the monster attack, my party-boy friend suddenly wielding a sword, and now the news of my father cryptically abandoning my mother after trying and failing to have me aborted, I couldn’t think straight. All the information left more questions than answers and a gnawing hole in my stomach.

“This doesn’t explain much.” I finally admitted, picking my head up to look at my mother who shook her head with a shrug.

“Yeah well I’m in the same boat as you kid. All I know is that since I had you, things were never… normal.” She pursed her lips as the word “normal” came out.

“What does that mean?” I had a clue, but I needed to know what I was missing.

“The first thing I noticed is that when I brought you home from the hospital, I started to get these massive scorpions in the house. We lived off of Patterson in that tile floor house at the time so I would hear them scuttling down the hall. But every time I would step on them, they would poof into dust. And then there were the times I would catch you just staring into the sun where you would sustain almost no damage. You would blink a couple times then walk away like nothing happened. Then there was the snake that got in that you strangled to death with your bare hands as a toddler, and then the fact that the second I handed you any stringed instrument, you would be able to play it within a couple hours. I can’t even begin to tell you how you recovered from your injuries last summer. The doctor told me that you would walk with a limp for the rest of your life.”

I looked at my leg and tapped my knee. I couldn’t feel the rod in it, but I knew it was there.

“I can make up shit that’s completely false and people just believe me.” I impulsively spat out. _Keep my words inside my mouth._ The sticker on just about every school planner I had screamed through my head.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow cocked, “tell me more.”

“When I talk, people listen,” I continued, remembering all the times in class I would raise my hand to say something mundane only to be greeted with dozens of people enthusiastically agreeing. “Sometimes when I sing to myself, people stop and stare until I’m done.”

Mom nodded in agreeance. “You always did draw a crowd.” I looked at the clock and realized I had slept much later than I realized. 11:45.

“Mom I hate to do this but I gotta go. I promised Matty I would meet him for lunch.” I explained as I moved to put my shoes on.

“Is this the boy you said had a sword?” She asked as she watched me lace up my red chucks and grab my keys and wallet.

“Yeah, him. If anyone has more answers, I think he does.” I assured her as I summoned a stranger in a car from the internet to come pick me up.

“I’m eager to hear what you’ll learn. And August?” She walked up to me and pulled me in close, “I never want you to think I didn’t want you. It wasn’t my idea. I’m glad it didn’t work.”

“I know.” I leaned into her, happy that I had been given so many chances.

 

She sent me on my way, and in 20 minutes I was at Kiwami Sushi sitting across from Matty who was in a pink polo and Sparrys outside on the patio.

He eyed me up and down for a minute, not saying anything as I took a seat. I hadn’t noticed that his eyes were almost the color of a dark red wine before, but once I did its all I could see.

“I would say you’re one of my kin, but you don’t look like a Roman to me.” He finally said after long enough that I began to squirm.

“Matty, I have no idea what the hell that means.” I responded exasperatedly.

He rolled his eyes and thanked the waiter as he brought us crispy rice with tuna.

“I expected as much. I mean, you’re a little old to go unclaimed but I assume your dad had a reason for it.” He shrugged as he shoveled a rice ball into his mouth.

I munched through the tuna, which didn’t taste like it was terrible for the environment, but being satiated with expensive fish wasn’t bringing me any answers and I was beginning to get annoyed.

“Why would I need to be claimed by him? Not like I missed him much growing up.”

Matty crossed his arms and nodded begrudgingly, “Where I come from, most of us would be better off having not known at least one of our parents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, not sure if I should be offended or not.

“August,” Matty got very serious as he leaned his elbows on the table and moved his face closer to me, “I need you to abandon any idea of what you think is real and what you think is make believe. Now that you know the world isn’t what it seems, they will be after you more and more until they get you.”

I began to sweat again, “Who is ‘they’ exactly?”

Matty reached into his carrier satchel next to him and pulled out an orange pamphlet.

“If I am correct, and I have absolutely no reason to assume I’m not, I think you’ll find this useful.” He slid it over to me like a mob boss does with a hit request.

The Pamphlet had a Pegasus and a laurel underneath with big black letters that read _So You’re a Demigod, What Now?_

“It’s a little cheesy, I know, but it makes these conversations much easier.” He explained.

“A demigod, excuse me?” I felt like Matty might be fucking with me.

“Look, the world is full of things we cannot explain. Most people just walk on by them going from point A to point B never even realizing their entire world is filled with the unexplained. For instance, my “dad” so to speak,” he said using air quotes and another eye roll for emphasis, “isn’t my father, but he will never know that because I’m pretty sure he just doesn’t care. He has his trophy wife and his fancy house with his big car and big pool and that’s all he’s ever going to need to be happy. People are like that sometimes. They miss the big picture.”

I frowned, not sure what Matty was getting at.

“So… what does any of this mean?”

“It means that when you actually look,” he pointed across the street at a large crow eating at an abandoned McDonald’s bag, “you might see something you… mist.”

The emphasis on the T was marked with a snap of his fingers, and suddenly the crow turned into a large bird with brilliant bright red wings that were tipped in fire. It gave a screech and took off into the sky, leaving a trail of sparks behind it.

I had no more words as I just stared at Matty, waiting for all of this to suddenly make sense or be some sort of joke.

“To make a long story short, gods, with a lower-case g, are real. They exist and my dad is the Roman god Bacchus, god of wine and revelry. The patron god of theater and celebration.” Matty explained, tapping my glass of water twice and turning it into a bright red glass of liquid. “Try it.” He gestured, a shit eating grin taking over his face.

I hesitantly took a sip and almost choked. Grape juice. The boy had somehow turned my water into dark red grape juice.

“Matty what the fuck.” I whispered, unable to comprehend yet another twisted turn of events.

“Yeah I know it’s not wine but apparently that part comes with age… kind of like wine… shit I just got that oh my god I’m an idiot.” He laughed at himself and tapped my glass again, turning it back to water.

“How… Jesus-y of you.” I commented, giving him a half smile. I was barely holding on to my sanity and was beginning to think I should just roll with it.

“Yeah I mean a lot of those myths get all jumbled up and crossed over. Whether man created god or god created man, in the end it was necessary.” He said, giving a slight but theatrical head bow.

“Should we be talking about this here?” I asked, looking around and realizing the patio was empty.

“No one cares, it’s a city. Crazy people say much weirder shit sitting at bus stops.”

I picked up the pamphlet, “So you’re saying I might be a demigod?”

Matty picked at the red tuna on his plate and gave me another eyeroll, “Not might. The fact that there was a fury hanging around my party is a bit of a dead giveaway.”

“Is that what that thing was?” I asked, reading the first paragraph in the fold out.

“Yes, and if you’re not careful, more will come. That’s why I think it’s important you find this place and get to it ASAP.” Matty instructed as our entrées came to the table.

           

The pamphlet’s opening paragraph read;

 

            “ _Dear potential future camper,_

_If you’re reading this, odds are you are a Greek half-blood; the mortal offspring of a Greek god and a human. But don’t be afraid, because there are many more like you in the world! In fact, many of them make use of our state-of-the-art facilities here at Camp Half-Blood. By attending our summer camp program, our campers learn the following skills to improve their life as a demigod and teach them how to navigate the world with their new founded gifts;_

  * _Hand to hand combat_
  * _Weaponry training_
  * _Battle strategy and tactics_
  * _Wilderness survival_
  * _Arts and crafts_
  * _Teamwork and leadership development_
  * _Metal working_
  * _Greek mythos and history_
  * _And much more!_



_So don’t delay! Please call the number below or contact your local satyr to set up your summer camp experience today!”_

 

“What’s a satyr?” I asked as I looked at the pictures on the next page of the pretty scenery shots of the camp filled with campers in orange shirts climbing rock walls, canoeing, fencing, and building what looked like a chariot.

Matty didn’t look up from his dragon roll to answer, “you know that goat man from the Narnia movie?”

“Oh… so what do they do for the camp exactly?”

He snorted, “Well to you guys, they’re basically demigod protectors who help get demigods to and from Half-Blood. The Roman camp knows them as fauns and they’re basically bums who don’t do shit. Fuckin’ hate those guys.”

“So you’re a Roman, and I’m a Greek apparently. What’s is the difference, exactly?”

“Ah well not much tee-bee-h. I mean to be fair, we kind bogarted your mythology after we overthrew you guys and then rewrote it to be more…hmmmm… militaristic.” He paused and shoveled a couple more pieced of sushi into his mouth.

“So shouldn’t the Greek gods be the same as the Roman gods?”

Matty shrugged, “There’s debate on whether their Roman halves are actually halves or just different aspects of the same god, if they’re different gods entirely, or if they’re just fucking with all of us.”

“Well if they’re basically the same, why separate the kids out?” I wasn’t comprehending it, but it didn’t seem like Matty really had a grasp on it either.

 He laughed, “Well apparently we kept beating the shit out of each other, so they separated us and worked their magic to make sure we just forget either camp existed up until rather recently. The Romans liked the west so we stayed here and the Greeks like the east so they stayed there. The rest is history. You’ll be taught all this when you get there. It’s a lot more complicated that I’m making it out to be.” He went back to his sushi without missing a beat.

I cocked my head to the side, “Well… then… if I’m from here… how do you know I’m Greek?”

He rolled his eyes at me again, a favorite move of his. “Please, your dad is Greek Apollo, I just know it. You’re all obsessed with music and beauty, and you have those huge blue eyes like saucers which is such a Greek move. You’re instantly gifted with music and you sometimes make flower crowns out of random plants you find around campus. Always obsessed with the bubbly sensitive aspects and no business ethics. Roman Apollo is basically doctor House.”

I paused, realizing Matty had been watching me more than I realized.

“What made you take notice in me?” I inquired.

“It’s really hard not to notice you, August.” He raised his eyebrows and looked me up and down, making me turn beet red at the implications.

“Shut it, perv.” I growled.

“Hey don’t look at me like that, it isn’t my fault you literally command attention like the sun.” Hey snapped back with a sarcastic grin.

“I’m literally wearing boot cut jeans and a black v neck. How am I commanding attention?” I rebuked.

“It’s just the way you are, August. You can’t help the fact that you’re a demigod and other mortals are drawn to that,” He pointed at my plate, “eat your fish, don’t let it sit in this heat.”

I picked at it a bit, unsurprisingly not hungry.

“Look, all I want to know is if I don’t go to this camp, what happens? And why, if I even am a Greek, would my father leave me all the way out here and not closer to this camp that’s supposed to prepare me against… whatever the fuck that thing at your party was. And what does claimed mean?” I rambled on, fed up with the lack of cohesive answers.

“August, calm down,” Matty put his hands up in surrender, “if you don’t go, you’ll have a much harder time when these beasts start to sniff you out more. You don’t wanna be caught short again, right?”

I pondered for a moment and shrugged, “ok fair point. But claimed?

“You see,” he continued, “about a decade ago, Half-Blood’s current activities director, Mr. Jackson, was a camper and a great hero who helped bring about a rule about gods giving their rightful claim to their children before 13. You missed your deadline, though I’m sure your… incident may have contributed.”

I sighed, “So what do I do?”

“Go to camp I guess. Figure out why daddy is trying to hide such a peach out here in the burning sun, make some new friends, learn to, I don’t know, flip a sword or something. Go, have fun. It’s not like we’ve had a major quest or crisis since 2011 anyways so you’ll mostly just be making friends and eating barbeque.” He concluded with another eye roll.

We finished lunch chatting about our mutual high school and plans for the next year. I was happy to drop the subject of divine intervention for a bit, though I was still reeling from the morning I had had. Matty hugged me goodbye and told me to contact him as soon as I had made up my mind, and I quietly headed back home to think about my decision. Camp seemed like the only solution in a sea of absurdity, but I had no idea how to broach the subject with mom.

 

As my uber pulled up to the house, I found Ed sitting on my stoop.

“What can I do for you Ed boy?” I asked as I approached him, realizing he had a somber look about him. He let his head slump between his knees as he sighed.

“This was not part of the deal.” Ed grumbled as he stood to to meet me. “Follow me. We need to talk.” He lead us back to his green house in silence, something I was absolutely not used to from him. The tension was about as thick as the early summer heatwave beginning to set in.

“So what’s up?” I finally asked after we had made our way into his apartment.

Ed looked at me with an uncomfortable expression, and then began to undo his belt.

“I know this seems weird, but just trust me for a second.” He pleaded as he pulled down his pants.

“Ed! What the fuck?!” I shielded my eyes instinctively, but looked back once I realized what he was trying to show me. I gasped. From his naval down was a thick coating of dark brown fur covering a pair of goat legs leading down to cloven hooves. Despite all the weird happenings these past two days, my jaw still dropped and I felt like I may faint. I dropped down on his worn futon, my knees giving underneath me without warning.

“I’m a satyr, ok? I’m supposed to keep you safe. I made a deal with your dad that I would keep you here and keep you away from monsters in exchange for my green house and a seat on a really important council for satyrs. Don’t ask me why he wanted that. You don’t typically question the decisions of a god.” He pulled his pants back up and made his way over to the back wall. He banged it three times, and the false panel fell down like a miniature drawbridge, revealing a pan flute, a golden switch blade, and a messenger bag with a red cross on it.

I made my way over to it, “What’s all this then?”

“I can smell it on you. You reek of that demigod stench which typically happens when a demigod becomes self-aware of their own divinity. I know you know which means they know which means our deal to keep you here puts the both of us in more danger than if I were to take you to Half-Blood.” He hastily dawned the messenger bag and handed me the knife.

“Ed, what is this?”

“Your father told me to give it to you in case of an emergency.”

“And you’re taking me to the camp? The one in Long Island?” I followed him as he scurried around the garden plucking various leaves.

“Yeah, I guess you’ve found a fellow demigod to give you the rundown which saves me some time but we need to leave ASAP. Be ready first thing tomorrow.” He instructed.

“What about your green house?” I looked around, feeling sad that he would have to give up all the hard work he put in.

He gave a weak chuckle, “Oh don’t worry about that, I have other nymph and satyr friends who will love taking over. But I need you to get your things together and get ready. I’ll have a Hermes come pick up your things by midnight… he kinda owes me.”

I cleared my throat uneasily, “Dang ok, I’ll get on it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As I left, I felt shaky and weird. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I almost ran back home, looking over my shoulder every few feet to make sure I wasn’t being followed by anything. I couldn’t get through my front door fast enough, almost slipping on the Mexican tiled floor as I stumbled through. I could hear my heart drowning out all the sounds around me. My vision tunneled and my blood ran ice cold, and I barely had time to call for my mother as I faded to black.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the exposition chapters, so hang on because we're about to get into some really crazy shit. Thanks again for sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually a re-write of a fic I wrote in high school that I posted to ff.net. I went back and rewrote it to better fit in with the universe, but to also help work out some rough patches and clunky parts that come with being 15 and writing your first major work of fiction. It's very long, so be aware of that, and it does have a sequel I never finished but will now that I've fixed the flow of it. This fic has been close to my heart since I was young, and I hope you find it as much fun to read as it was to write!


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